I'm reading Joanna Trollope. I really like her writing, parti ularly because she is so honest in delineating how complex women's lives and experiences are, including all the disappointments that a full life contains. In the book I'm reading now - A Spanish Lover - (I cannot find the shift key on E's iPad, therefore can't italicizes - I can see how our language changes and why) looks at twin sisters and their contrasting lifestyles, one a married mother of four with a successful business, the other a single woman who lives somewhat in her twin's shadow, but who eventually discovers her own capacity to run a business and seek out love. It. Isn't hard to guess which twinn takes the Spanish lover. What I love about Trollope's writing is what I've loved about Margaret Laurence's writing - it is the verisimilitude and dark poignancy of the real and everyday. It isn't an Alice Munroean under the linoleum kind of mythical shadowing, but the seemingly ordinary everyday frustrations and redemptions of more contemporary social experience. It reminds me of the work of Carol Shields in this way, too. I also like reading about English women because they seem so much more self- assured than the tripped out American women in fiction. Of. Ourse Canadian women in fiction are much more accessible to me.
I just started Kamourouska, which I will read after I finish this book and The Hunger Games, which I found at the express counter at the library on Tuesday. I'm looking forward to a bother Fairmont weekend, with E and I ru Ning away for a mini-break this weekend before the full chaos of our new lives begins with the advent of the new school year.
I accepted the program yesterday, but will do it online. I hope it helps lead me work I like. Lying in bed today, I again reflected on how much I learned last year about how little I liked teaching at the U. I had thhought all along that last year was going to be about learning what I could handle work-wise, and I did, but it wasn't what I expected. I learned that I didn't like doing what I set myself up to love. What do you do when that happens? I guess you try again. I think that is Joanna Trollope's message anyway. I will try to heed it.
Friday, August 31, 2012
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Run down
I'm so tired. We're about to nap. This was school day #2. I haven't slept much lately. A was thrilled with her first day of grade one and her graduation ceremony. After walking under a little trellis bridge with a grade 8 student, she sat imperiously on a bench and smiled like a royal. Oh dear. She's a drama queen. I'm not sure why I expected anything different.
I spent the morning at the college, trying to determine whether or not they've received my application and if I could possibly commute (I can't). So, where does this leave me? Confused. I'm not sure completing yet another training program (remember I have 5 degrees and have been through 7 college and university programs to date) is the right thing to do. But what else am I to do? I'm burnt out and exhausted. What can I handle? Not a lot, not anything at all right now.
Which is why I'm going to crawl into bed.
I spent the morning at the college, trying to determine whether or not they've received my application and if I could possibly commute (I can't). So, where does this leave me? Confused. I'm not sure completing yet another training program (remember I have 5 degrees and have been through 7 college and university programs to date) is the right thing to do. But what else am I to do? I'm burnt out and exhausted. What can I handle? Not a lot, not anything at all right now.
Which is why I'm going to crawl into bed.
Monday, August 27, 2012
A Certain Age
I'm reading A Certain Age by Tama Janowitz. It's depressing. At 32, the protagonist, Florence, is losing it, seeking a wealthy man at all costs. It disturbs me. I'm equally disturbed by my own life's disruptions. I know how disruptive age-related concerns can be.
I had another frustrating call with a service representative this morning. I can imagine it is a tough job, but a polite and positive tone would go a long way to improving communications. Why do people have to make it so hard for other people? Do they get their kicks this way? It is some weird power play.
E has been at a department meeting all day. It is running late, so he won't be home anytime soon. He'll be bringing his daughter to Karate before coming home. His daughter, like his son before her, is somewhat jealous of A. She asked E to prevent A from knocking on her door and asking to come into her room because it "bothers" her. A has done this maybe 2 times since we moved in last week. E's kids are not the kindest souls. They have a hard time considering other people's feelings. I find this problematic, but E seems to think it is perfectly okay. This may well lead to a lot of problems. I'm trying not to get too defensive on A's behalf, but really, a little girl wants to say hi to her older step-sibling, what's the big deal? A spends most of her time drawing in her room while E's kids watch TV or their iPods. I spent the day with her today, going to the library, reading, drawing, and talking. She's a far easier child to entertain than his are. I hope she won't be adversely affected by E's kids bad habits. I'd like to help change those bad habits, but that won't likely go over well with anyone, so I'll just focus on A.
I had another frustrating call with a service representative this morning. I can imagine it is a tough job, but a polite and positive tone would go a long way to improving communications. Why do people have to make it so hard for other people? Do they get their kicks this way? It is some weird power play.
E has been at a department meeting all day. It is running late, so he won't be home anytime soon. He'll be bringing his daughter to Karate before coming home. His daughter, like his son before her, is somewhat jealous of A. She asked E to prevent A from knocking on her door and asking to come into her room because it "bothers" her. A has done this maybe 2 times since we moved in last week. E's kids are not the kindest souls. They have a hard time considering other people's feelings. I find this problematic, but E seems to think it is perfectly okay. This may well lead to a lot of problems. I'm trying not to get too defensive on A's behalf, but really, a little girl wants to say hi to her older step-sibling, what's the big deal? A spends most of her time drawing in her room while E's kids watch TV or their iPods. I spent the day with her today, going to the library, reading, drawing, and talking. She's a far easier child to entertain than his are. I hope she won't be adversely affected by E's kids bad habits. I'd like to help change those bad habits, but that won't likely go over well with anyone, so I'll just focus on A.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Lazy Summer Day
It's our first real weekend together and everyone is going in a different direction. E's out picking up his daughter. His son is glued to the television set. A's been drawing and making me presents in her room. I've been reading and making pizza dough for supper. The clearing and sorting continue.
A starts school on Tuesday, graduating from SK and going to first grade. There is a little ceremony for all the grade 1's. It should be nice.
Meanwhile, I had to hunt through stacks of boxes, stored for years in E's furnace closet, looking for student numbers for the last 3 universities I've attended. Thank God I found the numbers, because U of T, for instance, wouldn't tell me my old student number over the phone. Instead, I'd have to pay $10 plus courier fees to have it sent to me, only so that the Ontario Application centre would have the number and would send on the transcripts I've already ordered from them for $10.
I won't even begin to complain about my insurance debacle yesterday. I was treated with utter contempt by a Montreal call centre when my call to RBC from Alymer regarding my Ontario Insurance was routed there. It made me feel as though Francophone Quebecers really hate Anglophone Ontarians. When I said this to E, he said, "Well, most Francophone Quebecers think Anglophone Ontarians hate them."
I doubt it. They couldn't care less what Anglophone Ontarians think of them. I'm worried about the election though, because I only see these tensions getting worse.
A starts school on Tuesday, graduating from SK and going to first grade. There is a little ceremony for all the grade 1's. It should be nice.
Meanwhile, I had to hunt through stacks of boxes, stored for years in E's furnace closet, looking for student numbers for the last 3 universities I've attended. Thank God I found the numbers, because U of T, for instance, wouldn't tell me my old student number over the phone. Instead, I'd have to pay $10 plus courier fees to have it sent to me, only so that the Ontario Application centre would have the number and would send on the transcripts I've already ordered from them for $10.
I won't even begin to complain about my insurance debacle yesterday. I was treated with utter contempt by a Montreal call centre when my call to RBC from Alymer regarding my Ontario Insurance was routed there. It made me feel as though Francophone Quebecers really hate Anglophone Ontarians. When I said this to E, he said, "Well, most Francophone Quebecers think Anglophone Ontarians hate them."
I doubt it. They couldn't care less what Anglophone Ontarians think of them. I'm worried about the election though, because I only see these tensions getting worse.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Bedding
One thing I've been insistent upon was new bedding. I do not want our married life to start with E's ex's sheets. I found them scratchy and uncomfortable and the design irritated me. Today, we went and bought the highest count 100% cotton sheets and duvet cover that we could find. We increased the duvet size from a Queen to a King, so that E couldn't hog all the covers off me. This purchase was the end result of several days of research, including some failed purchase attempts on Amazon.com, where bedding is advertised with such misleading claims, that it is difficult to determine what exactly you are buying. For example, they list several 1000 thread count sheet sets, but they call them "Egyptian Comfort" sheets. You think you're buying Egyptian Cotton sheets, but they are not 100% Egyptian cotton at all. They are some blend. Tricky. You have to be careful to look for 100% Egyptian Cotton in the headline or you're lost. Then, then . . . according to some consumer reviews, you could end up with single-thread sheets that are so thin they barely count. So, trickier and trickier. That's why just going to a store and buying something we could touch made sense, even if it cost 4 times more.
The good news is that we'll sleep comfortably tonight.
And . . . I've finished teaching for the summer and applied to a program for the fall.
I'll have to retrain in some professional capacity to have any hope of finding work. I don't know what else to do at this point.
Again, I'm so tired that all I want to do is rest. There is still a lot to process. I am working my way through rooms of boxes and piles of clothes and toys. I haven't even started on my books.
I can't live without my books, but I may have to cull even more from my collection.
For now, I'll enjoy the prospect of a good night's sleep.
The good news is that we'll sleep comfortably tonight.
And . . . I've finished teaching for the summer and applied to a program for the fall.
I'll have to retrain in some professional capacity to have any hope of finding work. I don't know what else to do at this point.
Again, I'm so tired that all I want to do is rest. There is still a lot to process. I am working my way through rooms of boxes and piles of clothes and toys. I haven't even started on my books.
I can't live without my books, but I may have to cull even more from my collection.
For now, I'll enjoy the prospect of a good night's sleep.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Alone at last
I have the house to myself. E's at his office and the kids are finally back at camp. The room is banked with boxes - some from our recent trip to IKEA and some from my place, all of which I must try to address. I'm not sure where to begin. E's been urging me to purge, but that's difficult. I can understand the rationale, but I feel so insecure at this juncture that I cling to things that are familiar, even if they are unecessary to this new life.
This really is a new life. That's difficult to understand. I was in my old neighbourhood downtown yesterday, picking up A from my friend, S, who was watching her while I was teaching. When I arrived outside S's building and A saw me, she started pouting and turned away. She was angry that her plan to visit the dollar store with S was not going to proceed as anticipated. My presence was unwelcome. I was supposed to go away and come back later, so I did. I wandered around the neighbourhood with an iced coffee. I sat in the park and stared up at my old building, the one where I lived for a couple years before meeting A's dad, then for 2 years with her after he left. I wouldn't say that I had any sense of having come a long way since then, but my circumstances have certainly changed drastically. I'm glad I'm not there anymore, but it was not a bad place to be.
I also thought about my friend, maybe just acquaintance, who committed suicide last year by jumping from her balcony in an adjacent building. What a horrible, lonely passing. She was a regular at our local coffee shop, so I'd see her often, but I didn't always want to talk, because often it was too hard to talk to her. She was so immersed in her own pain and despair, that it was frustrating to speak to her because she couldn't seem to listen. Once, I saw her on a park bench with tears streaming down her face. I can't remember what I did. What did I do? What didn't I do? Why didn't I do more? That's what I'm left with. I know she had a difficult family, a failed marriage, health problems, but does that all add up to suicidal depression? What can help? Friends can help. They can. I could have. Maybe. S knew her too and she thinks no one could have really helped. But I'm not so sure.
What do we need to survive? What makes life meaningful? What is our purpose here? What can I do to ensure that no one I know ever feels that low?
I'm just thankful that I'm less alone now than I was back then. I know how difficult it is to be without social support and family support. I hope I can be more helpful in the future.
Sometimes we need to be alone, but not that alone.
This really is a new life. That's difficult to understand. I was in my old neighbourhood downtown yesterday, picking up A from my friend, S, who was watching her while I was teaching. When I arrived outside S's building and A saw me, she started pouting and turned away. She was angry that her plan to visit the dollar store with S was not going to proceed as anticipated. My presence was unwelcome. I was supposed to go away and come back later, so I did. I wandered around the neighbourhood with an iced coffee. I sat in the park and stared up at my old building, the one where I lived for a couple years before meeting A's dad, then for 2 years with her after he left. I wouldn't say that I had any sense of having come a long way since then, but my circumstances have certainly changed drastically. I'm glad I'm not there anymore, but it was not a bad place to be.
I also thought about my friend, maybe just acquaintance, who committed suicide last year by jumping from her balcony in an adjacent building. What a horrible, lonely passing. She was a regular at our local coffee shop, so I'd see her often, but I didn't always want to talk, because often it was too hard to talk to her. She was so immersed in her own pain and despair, that it was frustrating to speak to her because she couldn't seem to listen. Once, I saw her on a park bench with tears streaming down her face. I can't remember what I did. What did I do? What didn't I do? Why didn't I do more? That's what I'm left with. I know she had a difficult family, a failed marriage, health problems, but does that all add up to suicidal depression? What can help? Friends can help. They can. I could have. Maybe. S knew her too and she thinks no one could have really helped. But I'm not so sure.
What do we need to survive? What makes life meaningful? What is our purpose here? What can I do to ensure that no one I know ever feels that low?
I'm just thankful that I'm less alone now than I was back then. I know how difficult it is to be without social support and family support. I hope I can be more helpful in the future.
Sometimes we need to be alone, but not that alone.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Cooling
Summer is ending, and the air is too cool for my comfort. While yesterday was still glorious, the season is nearing its end. A starts school next Tuesday - that's a week away. She's supposed to attend a "graduation" ceremony for the transition from kindergarten to grade 1. I just hope that she'll have a good teacher.
E's kids start school then too. He is anxious to get back to work. I know he has felt frustrated by his output this summer. He is usually far more efficient. I haven't done much of anything myself work wise, but I have accomplished a lot otherwise. Just clearing the house and renting it was huge. The court case was huger. Then there was our whole wedding season, which was of another order of emotional evolution. Moving here has been challenging, too.
What's next? I can't even bear to think about it.
I have to make a plan, but I have nothing to go on. All the changes of the summer, though some were long in the planning (like the wedding) came about so fast that they hardly seem real. Other changes (like the move, the dearth of courses) were entirely unexpected. I conclude that you can't always plan things, and that maybe the things you don't plan are part of some master plan you can't yet understand.
I do wonder what that master plan is, though. And who the master is.
E's kids start school then too. He is anxious to get back to work. I know he has felt frustrated by his output this summer. He is usually far more efficient. I haven't done much of anything myself work wise, but I have accomplished a lot otherwise. Just clearing the house and renting it was huge. The court case was huger. Then there was our whole wedding season, which was of another order of emotional evolution. Moving here has been challenging, too.
What's next? I can't even bear to think about it.
I have to make a plan, but I have nothing to go on. All the changes of the summer, though some were long in the planning (like the wedding) came about so fast that they hardly seem real. Other changes (like the move, the dearth of courses) were entirely unexpected. I conclude that you can't always plan things, and that maybe the things you don't plan are part of some master plan you can't yet understand.
I do wonder what that master plan is, though. And who the master is.
Monday, August 20, 2012
Really?
Yesterday it was the keys not working.
Today, the washtub was overflowing yet again.
I met the reno guy at noon, after our morning at IKEA.
He was not happy with me. The reno guy was grumbling about it not being his fault that the tub wasn't working. But he installed it. I paid him big bucks, the washtub should work.
After settling our accounts, I went to find A, in order to introduce her to her new friend living in our house. She, of course, wanted a tour of the house and while looking said, "Wow, I really like your house."
The renter said, "The house is perfect."
It is so weird having someone else living there. It is so weird to see how they've arranged things. But hey - I was okay with it, A was okay with it. I thought it was important that she see them in there in order to fully understand what was going on.
The IKEA trip involved buying desks and chairs for the kids. They are all fully equiped for the demands of the school year. A and I will share one long desk with two chairs. Her room will be my office. I'm not sure she fully understands this, so I'll take advantage of that while I can.
She's pleased with her new space though.
Everyone seems happy today.
That seems enough for the moment.
Today, the washtub was overflowing yet again.
I met the reno guy at noon, after our morning at IKEA.
He was not happy with me. The reno guy was grumbling about it not being his fault that the tub wasn't working. But he installed it. I paid him big bucks, the washtub should work.
After settling our accounts, I went to find A, in order to introduce her to her new friend living in our house. She, of course, wanted a tour of the house and while looking said, "Wow, I really like your house."
The renter said, "The house is perfect."
It is so weird having someone else living there. It is so weird to see how they've arranged things. But hey - I was okay with it, A was okay with it. I thought it was important that she see them in there in order to fully understand what was going on.
The IKEA trip involved buying desks and chairs for the kids. They are all fully equiped for the demands of the school year. A and I will share one long desk with two chairs. Her room will be my office. I'm not sure she fully understands this, so I'll take advantage of that while I can.
She's pleased with her new space though.
Everyone seems happy today.
That seems enough for the moment.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Mo[u]rning
August is when the crickets come out. Their constant bleet is punctuated by crow caws at this time of day. Otherwise, here in the wooded suburbs, things are quiet.
I left my house/home yesterday. It was hard. So many days of endless work . . . and finally, an end.
What remains is the worry about the renovation glitches . . . the washtub not draining and dripping under the sink. I hate fights, and I suppose I always suspect I have to fight for people to be fair. I'll have to call the reno guy later. Hopefully, he'll correct the problem. If not . . . well, I can't bear to think about that right now.
Last night E and I ate out at an Indian restaurant in my old neighbourhood. It was surprisingly good, with fresh vegetables and savoury sauces. We drank Kingfisher and stifled yawns. When we returned here, we sank into bed and cruised online sites for high-thread count duvet covers. We've decided a new marriage bed needs new bedding. (Thank God! What is it about men that they don't understand that any trace, ANY TRACE, of their ex-wives in their home with their new wife is irritating.) So, today we will shop for new stuff, while all my old stuff clogs the garage and the dining room.
One special thing is drying on the deck. It is my mother's hand-made Canadian provincial flower quilt. When she was making it, maybe 20 years ago now, I asked her who it was for and she said, "Maybe, for your wedding." Little did she realize how long that would take to come about. When she died 10 years ago, I took the quilt. It has been packed away in mothbolls ever since. I never used it with my ex, but it matches E's walls perfectly, so after we buy an Egyptian cotton duvet cover, we can put my mother's quilt on top. I think she'd like that.
What would my mother make of my new life? She'd probably be glad I've settled down. She was a bit of a Stepford wife, my mother, but she always claimed to be happy. I think she thought of marriage as a career. Her whole project was to be my father's helpmeet and our mother. I still wonder if she ever regretted not taking more time for herself. What would she have done? Would she have been happier?
Of course, I'm also wondering what I should do and how much time I'll have to do it. Now there will be three little kids around, and kids take time. I'll just have to find some quiet places to retreat, or take my early mornings like this to sit and think things through, then someday, someday, do.
I left my house/home yesterday. It was hard. So many days of endless work . . . and finally, an end.
What remains is the worry about the renovation glitches . . . the washtub not draining and dripping under the sink. I hate fights, and I suppose I always suspect I have to fight for people to be fair. I'll have to call the reno guy later. Hopefully, he'll correct the problem. If not . . . well, I can't bear to think about that right now.
Last night E and I ate out at an Indian restaurant in my old neighbourhood. It was surprisingly good, with fresh vegetables and savoury sauces. We drank Kingfisher and stifled yawns. When we returned here, we sank into bed and cruised online sites for high-thread count duvet covers. We've decided a new marriage bed needs new bedding. (Thank God! What is it about men that they don't understand that any trace, ANY TRACE, of their ex-wives in their home with their new wife is irritating.) So, today we will shop for new stuff, while all my old stuff clogs the garage and the dining room.
One special thing is drying on the deck. It is my mother's hand-made Canadian provincial flower quilt. When she was making it, maybe 20 years ago now, I asked her who it was for and she said, "Maybe, for your wedding." Little did she realize how long that would take to come about. When she died 10 years ago, I took the quilt. It has been packed away in mothbolls ever since. I never used it with my ex, but it matches E's walls perfectly, so after we buy an Egyptian cotton duvet cover, we can put my mother's quilt on top. I think she'd like that.
What would my mother make of my new life? She'd probably be glad I've settled down. She was a bit of a Stepford wife, my mother, but she always claimed to be happy. I think she thought of marriage as a career. Her whole project was to be my father's helpmeet and our mother. I still wonder if she ever regretted not taking more time for herself. What would she have done? Would she have been happier?
Of course, I'm also wondering what I should do and how much time I'll have to do it. Now there will be three little kids around, and kids take time. I'll just have to find some quiet places to retreat, or take my early mornings like this to sit and think things through, then someday, someday, do.
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Please make it stop
I'm so tired. For weeks now I've been on this hamster wheel . . .dealing with massive life changes. Today, I was back in my basement, cleaning. I felt completely defeated there for a while. I didn't know how I would ever get it ready in time for my tenants. Thankfully, around 2 pm E called and I asked him to come and help me and he did. Things improved after that. I was able to get rid of most every trace of myself down there. Even the tenant said, "Wow, you really did a lot of work down here."
So. I'm out. I'm out. I can't believe it. I've moved in with E.
Except . . . where is he? We took separate cars back, but I've arrived and he hasn't.
All I want to do is sleep. Last night, I couldn't sleep. I was up every hour with TO DO lists running through my head.
Now, now . . . I can try to relax.
A is with her Dad. She called to tell me she was going swimming. I asked her to talk as I cleaned, but that didn't go over so well. Tomorrow, we'll take L shopping to get stuff for her new room and bathroom. Everyone is restructuring somehow.
I just want a break from all this change. I'm not sure what the opposite of change is . . .that's positive . . . maybe peace. I just want peace. World peace.
So. I'm out. I'm out. I can't believe it. I've moved in with E.
Except . . . where is he? We took separate cars back, but I've arrived and he hasn't.
All I want to do is sleep. Last night, I couldn't sleep. I was up every hour with TO DO lists running through my head.
Now, now . . . I can try to relax.
A is with her Dad. She called to tell me she was going swimming. I asked her to talk as I cleaned, but that didn't go over so well. Tomorrow, we'll take L shopping to get stuff for her new room and bathroom. Everyone is restructuring somehow.
I just want a break from all this change. I'm not sure what the opposite of change is . . .that's positive . . . maybe peace. I just want peace. World peace.
Imaginary Houses
I have just left my beloved 2nd house. It was more than a house, of course, it was my treasured home and assertion of my independence and autonomy when my world seemed to be collapsing around me (little did I know it would get worse). I bought that house, in part, with some settlement money from my divorce. I bought it, in part, because I felt I had to house-up after my ex and his new partner had a baby, bought a house, and cruised around in their snazzy new cars, playing perfect family (this lasted all of a year). I bought my own little house when I realized that E, for all his apparent interest in me, didn't seem to want to have me move in to his house or get married (this was 2010 - he changed his mind). The house, my lovely little bungalow, was a haven for A and I. We both loved it because it kept us close (it is really very small) and it had a huge yard (to play in), a perfect lawn (now destroyed), a long driveway (to colour with chalk), and some fun neighbors (her age - to play with).
I just spent half a year's rent on a bathroom renovation. Yesterday, I realized I could probably have found a new job in 6 months, and I wouldn't have had to move in here to keep afloat, and I felt like I'd made a terrible mistake. E and I living apart work well. Living together? Too soon to tell. I'm worried though. I don't think I live well with people. I can live with my child pretty well because I'm in charge. E's the same.
Still, there is one spectacular benefit to being here with him instead of there alone. He cleans! I hired a cleaner to help me get the house in order yesterday. She suggested that I would probably need her services at the new house (ha, ha, haven't I always admitted to being domestically challenged?). I didn't tell her that I married Mr. Clean. As blank as E can be, he's pretty darn good about taking charge of his own space.
My own space, now quite beautiful and clean, will now be handed over to someone else. Why didn't I do the reno and take charge of it more forcefully when I had it? I didn't seem able. I was overburdened with work and responsiblity and lacked confidence and cash (a custody battle will do that to you). So, here I am with E, nostalgic for my former life and home, keeping in mind this little jewel of a place that's mine.
Elizabeth McGrath wrote a fabulous story called "Fogbound in Avalon." I don't know if she has written anything since. It is difficult to find any information about her. Anyway, the story is about the breakdown of the narrator's marriage and in it she mentions that she and her husband, at one happier point in their lives, purchased a heritage home in their home town. I'm not sure if they lived there for a short period of time or just rented it, but they eventually rented it and lived on the opposite coast; however, for her, the fact of owning it, of having that place, allows her to hold it in mind and heart. I think that will be the greatest reward for all my efforts on my house. I have created a space that reflects my heart and I will hold it in mind as I create a new life here, always knowing that I have there, that there is a place I can claim, should I need to.
Is that pessimistic? I don't think so. I think it is prudent. I think it is how fifth-wave feminists hedge their bets and maintain their peace of mind.
I just spent half a year's rent on a bathroom renovation. Yesterday, I realized I could probably have found a new job in 6 months, and I wouldn't have had to move in here to keep afloat, and I felt like I'd made a terrible mistake. E and I living apart work well. Living together? Too soon to tell. I'm worried though. I don't think I live well with people. I can live with my child pretty well because I'm in charge. E's the same.
Still, there is one spectacular benefit to being here with him instead of there alone. He cleans! I hired a cleaner to help me get the house in order yesterday. She suggested that I would probably need her services at the new house (ha, ha, haven't I always admitted to being domestically challenged?). I didn't tell her that I married Mr. Clean. As blank as E can be, he's pretty darn good about taking charge of his own space.
My own space, now quite beautiful and clean, will now be handed over to someone else. Why didn't I do the reno and take charge of it more forcefully when I had it? I didn't seem able. I was overburdened with work and responsiblity and lacked confidence and cash (a custody battle will do that to you). So, here I am with E, nostalgic for my former life and home, keeping in mind this little jewel of a place that's mine.
Elizabeth McGrath wrote a fabulous story called "Fogbound in Avalon." I don't know if she has written anything since. It is difficult to find any information about her. Anyway, the story is about the breakdown of the narrator's marriage and in it she mentions that she and her husband, at one happier point in their lives, purchased a heritage home in their home town. I'm not sure if they lived there for a short period of time or just rented it, but they eventually rented it and lived on the opposite coast; however, for her, the fact of owning it, of having that place, allows her to hold it in mind and heart. I think that will be the greatest reward for all my efforts on my house. I have created a space that reflects my heart and I will hold it in mind as I create a new life here, always knowing that I have there, that there is a place I can claim, should I need to.
Is that pessimistic? I don't think so. I think it is prudent. I think it is how fifth-wave feminists hedge their bets and maintain their peace of mind.
Friday, August 17, 2012
Moving Day
Okay, I have 5 hours to get ready to move. I am reading the paper (apparently someone named Anna David already re-read Sex and the Single Girl and wrote a book called Falling For Me: How I Hung Curtains, Learned to Cook, Travelled to Seville, and Fell in Love about following Helen Gurley Brown's advice. She says Gurley Brown's ideas are "really about self-love") and trying to figure out a plan of attack. The renovator guy will be in this morning to finish my bathroom, which looks not bad after a couple coats of Shaker Tan. E and I were able to avoid bickering and paint last night. I feel contrite.
Today, I have to tackle last minute packing and packing and organizing my basement. The basement has been the second biggest bane of home ownership for me (the first is my uncontrollable lawn - my neighbour/saviour said to me last night, "That's good soil there in that lawn - wow." Yeah, wow). The tenants want to use most of it, so that means I have to get my stuff (books, trinkets, toys, clothes, camping gear) out or orgranized. I am a closet hoarder, so all of this is hard for me. E doesn't really understand my pain. He'd get rid of it all, given a chance, especially because he doesn't want it all coming over here to his house.
All my books and excess stuff is going to be packed in his garage by the end of the day, so he has reason to be afraid. The only furniture I'm taking are a couple of bookshelves (for the numerous books) and A's white princess bedroom suite. Otherwise, everything stays. Luck tenants - they'll have a new bathroom and the fruit of all my labour on All For Nothing, the show that just about did me in.
What doesn't just about do me in? That is my question to myself. Maybe I should retire to an Ashram. Maybe that's all I'll be able to do, if I survive this blended family experience.
Today, I have to tackle last minute packing and packing and organizing my basement. The basement has been the second biggest bane of home ownership for me (the first is my uncontrollable lawn - my neighbour/saviour said to me last night, "That's good soil there in that lawn - wow." Yeah, wow). The tenants want to use most of it, so that means I have to get my stuff (books, trinkets, toys, clothes, camping gear) out or orgranized. I am a closet hoarder, so all of this is hard for me. E doesn't really understand my pain. He'd get rid of it all, given a chance, especially because he doesn't want it all coming over here to his house.
All my books and excess stuff is going to be packed in his garage by the end of the day, so he has reason to be afraid. The only furniture I'm taking are a couple of bookshelves (for the numerous books) and A's white princess bedroom suite. Otherwise, everything stays. Luck tenants - they'll have a new bathroom and the fruit of all my labour on All For Nothing, the show that just about did me in.
What doesn't just about do me in? That is my question to myself. Maybe I should retire to an Ashram. Maybe that's all I'll be able to do, if I survive this blended family experience.
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Meltdown
We left E's house at 8 am and headed to Canadian Tire for paint. After stocking up, we went to my place and starting prepping. I was exhauted, thus cranky and impatient. E and I had discussed our approach to the job in the car, but when we arrived and he starting rolling the walls, I hit the ceiling.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm painting the walls."
"I thought we talked about starting with the ceiling."
"I thought you were going to cut and I was going to roll."
"Well, you don't roll before cutting. You roll after cutting. That's the point of rolling . . . to smooth over the cuts."
"I've never done it like that."
"Well, didn't you watch the video?"
He stares blankly at me, then says, "I"ve always done it where one person cuts and the other person rolls."
"Well, maybe you can do that . . . but the person rolling comes after the person cutting."
It went on like that for a while. It wasn't fun. I wasn't happy. I'm still not. I'm stressed. I have too much to do and too little time.
The good news is that I have this great neighbour who swooped in and saved my back lawn from becoming a forest. I am so grateful. I have never had a handle on that lawn. I'm glad to be leaving it. I will leave the new family all of my well-intended garden implements and I will escape across the river. They'll inherit my tomatoes, mint, chives, roses, and pumpkins, but I'll avoid the misery of watching my lawn get away from me time and time again.
I was dripping with sweat from the work on the bathroom. The good news is that it looks nice and will be much better with renters than my old pink plastic eyesore of a salle de bain.
Still, I thought I was about to lose it earlier . . . it felt like a meltdown. I've had enough of painting and planning and moving and E's blank stares.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm painting the walls."
"I thought we talked about starting with the ceiling."
"I thought you were going to cut and I was going to roll."
"Well, you don't roll before cutting. You roll after cutting. That's the point of rolling . . . to smooth over the cuts."
"I've never done it like that."
"Well, didn't you watch the video?"
He stares blankly at me, then says, "I"ve always done it where one person cuts and the other person rolls."
"Well, maybe you can do that . . . but the person rolling comes after the person cutting."
It went on like that for a while. It wasn't fun. I wasn't happy. I'm still not. I'm stressed. I have too much to do and too little time.
The good news is that I have this great neighbour who swooped in and saved my back lawn from becoming a forest. I am so grateful. I have never had a handle on that lawn. I'm glad to be leaving it. I will leave the new family all of my well-intended garden implements and I will escape across the river. They'll inherit my tomatoes, mint, chives, roses, and pumpkins, but I'll avoid the misery of watching my lawn get away from me time and time again.
I was dripping with sweat from the work on the bathroom. The good news is that it looks nice and will be much better with renters than my old pink plastic eyesore of a salle de bain.
Still, I thought I was about to lose it earlier . . . it felt like a meltdown. I've had enough of painting and planning and moving and E's blank stares.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Argh!
I'm exhausted. Up since early morning, I've spent the day running around buying and returning things. . . trying to match fixtures and paint to tile and accents. E and I are priming my bathroom tonight and painting tomorrow. I have not finished packing. At this point, I'm too tired to care.
At least I don't have to teach in three weeks. There's that.
At least I don't have to teach in three weeks. There's that.
Gen-X has rounded 40
I was reading the Globe and Mail this morning, and have to agree with their Alene Lawson quotation that my generation "are changing the face of what it means to be middle-aged." We look far better now than older generations did at our age. With E now 40, I have to agree. I'm a little beyond that, but I don't think many people would guess. Looking at my 85-year-old father, still active and playing the field like a 30-year-old, I can assume there is a lot to looking as young as you feel, but he still probably looked 40 at 40. I think 40 is the new 30, and I've said this for years.
It is shocking to see yourself aging though. I suppose it does happen, but I'll take Helen Gurley Brown as my model and live long and happy as the mouseburger I am, keeping up to sex, exercise and fashion and having fun. I read Sex and the Single Girl as a teenager and it probably set the tone of my young life. I have always been determined to work hard and see myself through, perhaps because of it. I'm going to read it again soon, just to see how I feel about it now.
It is shocking to see yourself aging though. I suppose it does happen, but I'll take Helen Gurley Brown as my model and live long and happy as the mouseburger I am, keeping up to sex, exercise and fashion and having fun. I read Sex and the Single Girl as a teenager and it probably set the tone of my young life. I have always been determined to work hard and see myself through, perhaps because of it. I'm going to read it again soon, just to see how I feel about it now.
Birthday Bash
We just returned from E and C's birthday dinner. The ex was there with her new husband and small child. This didn't stop her from attempting to establish her ongoing intimacy with E, leaning over him, talking about his favourite singer's upcoming concert, showing him pictures of their trip with the kids to the grandparents' house. Perhaps she gets a kick out of that - appealing to him in front of me. I shouldn't let it bother me, but it does. She had asked for a ride back with us, because her new husband wanted to play hockey. This meant our new family couldn't travel together, and she took my place in his car, which did not sit well with me. E and I talked about the arrangement of cars before hand and I had asked that she travel with me, but just as we were leaving, she deposited herself into his car and sent her daugther to mine. I conceded, but gritted my teeth the whole way home. I'm not sure how to deal with this in the future. E is easily manipulated by her. I vow not to be, but I suppose I'll have to be more vigilant.
Meanwhile, renovations continue to stagger ahead at my home. I have to start priming tomorrow, but I'm afraid I don't be able to do much because the contractor is moving so slowly. Never trust these guys to finish on time. I was warned, but I always believe people when they tell me they'll do something, so now I'm stuck.
Meanwhile, renovations continue to stagger ahead at my home. I have to start priming tomorrow, but I'm afraid I don't be able to do much because the contractor is moving so slowly. Never trust these guys to finish on time. I was warned, but I always believe people when they tell me they'll do something, so now I'm stuck.
Monday, August 13, 2012
Squatting
I'm in my house, packing away, cleaning to the best of my ability (which is not great), without a toilet! Thankfully, I was able to pop in to the neighbours to use the facilities, because I wasn't really up to squatting over a cup and dumping it down the drain in the basement.
I came over early, by 7:30 am, and the contractor was already in my house. I tried to address a number of things on the list I compiled at 3:00 am - the fact that my garage door is on the blink, the plugged to over-flowing washtub, the fact that there is no tiling the bathroom!! I am a little bit edgy, because when I googled the contractor's name, it came up through the BBB website with an F rating! Yikes. I do not have time to waste and . . . the guy isn't even working here today. I've been here since 9:00 am with A (she's playing happily with the girl across the street) and he hasn't returned.
Meanwhile, tomorrow is E and his son's 40th Birthday. I have to buy presents. I'm broke, too, so that may be hard. Anyway, the bigger stress is going out to dinner with his ex-wife, her increasingly estranged current husband, his daughter, and their mutual love child. I have to drive the ex-wife home because there is no way I'm letting E do it because this will only give her time to cry on his shoulder about her current husband and I want him to have no part of that.
Oh, the complications. Problem is . . . with this rental, I'll have no place to hide if I'm overwhelmed, and I'm terrrified.
For now, I'll try to let it all sink in as I pack, clean, and resist squatting in my once-beloved home.
I came over early, by 7:30 am, and the contractor was already in my house. I tried to address a number of things on the list I compiled at 3:00 am - the fact that my garage door is on the blink, the plugged to over-flowing washtub, the fact that there is no tiling the bathroom!! I am a little bit edgy, because when I googled the contractor's name, it came up through the BBB website with an F rating! Yikes. I do not have time to waste and . . . the guy isn't even working here today. I've been here since 9:00 am with A (she's playing happily with the girl across the street) and he hasn't returned.
Meanwhile, tomorrow is E and his son's 40th Birthday. I have to buy presents. I'm broke, too, so that may be hard. Anyway, the bigger stress is going out to dinner with his ex-wife, her increasingly estranged current husband, his daughter, and their mutual love child. I have to drive the ex-wife home because there is no way I'm letting E do it because this will only give her time to cry on his shoulder about her current husband and I want him to have no part of that.
Oh, the complications. Problem is . . . with this rental, I'll have no place to hide if I'm overwhelmed, and I'm terrrified.
For now, I'll try to let it all sink in as I pack, clean, and resist squatting in my once-beloved home.
Closing Ceremonies Part 2
Well, I think I watched most of it, and then I watched it again on NBC with E and the kids. The thing I love about Brits is the fact that they are so self-ironizing - their eccentricty is their strength as a nation. For example,their naval glory was sent up by Annie Lennox's tattered vessel accompanied by her goth look and gypsified gentry. I like the vibrant street dance scenes and the telescoping of music history to focus on more contemporary diversity in the music industry. Then there were the parts of the show that left me (and probably the Americans) scratching their heads - Why the octobus? Why the blue suits and lightbulb bowler hats? Why the igloo John Lennon (you're not Canadians!)?
And a sidebar - why did the Canadians adopt the super casual jean jacket asssemble with casual khakis? And the Americans their preppy polo/logo look? These clothes just reinforce stereotypes don't they?
See that where the Brits beat North Americans - they challenge stereotypes, manipulating them to display their characteristic wit. I love the "To Be or Not To Be" newspaper headline. The little kids wearing Imagine t-shirts.
Their one American moment was the supermodel parade, which was really so unnecessary.
A child weeps in the night and I must cut this short. . .
And a sidebar - why did the Canadians adopt the super casual jean jacket asssemble with casual khakis? And the Americans their preppy polo/logo look? These clothes just reinforce stereotypes don't they?
See that where the Brits beat North Americans - they challenge stereotypes, manipulating them to display their characteristic wit. I love the "To Be or Not To Be" newspaper headline. The little kids wearing Imagine t-shirts.
Their one American moment was the supermodel parade, which was really so unnecessary.
A child weeps in the night and I must cut this short. . .
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Closing ceremonies
Wow. The olympic closing ceremony is amazing, particularly for those of us who grew up in the 80s. I'm watching it on E's new iPad. The iPad is a perk for those academics working with a certain research group. Nice perks.
My own academic career is now almost 6 feet under. I'm not sure what I'm to do with myself. Certainly, I can do my own writing and research, and maybe that's all I can do now . . . what with the teaching at a standstill. Everything came to a standstill with my unexpected divorce and custody trials. There's not much I can do about it now.
All I can do is go on . . .
Not that I'm complaining. I'm lucky - I can go on. I have - marrying E, renting my little house, taking some time to recuperate from that long 5 years of hell. There will be better times ahead.
My own academic career is now almost 6 feet under. I'm not sure what I'm to do with myself. Certainly, I can do my own writing and research, and maybe that's all I can do now . . . what with the teaching at a standstill. Everything came to a standstill with my unexpected divorce and custody trials. There's not much I can do about it now.
All I can do is go on . . .
Not that I'm complaining. I'm lucky - I can go on. I have - marrying E, renting my little house, taking some time to recuperate from that long 5 years of hell. There will be better times ahead.
Saturday, August 11, 2012
What now?
That's the question I was left with yesterday. Nothing is making much sense at the moment. I am moving forward, making arrangements, having meetings, but nothing is fully resolved; there many things to sort out.
Yesterday, my very superstitious neighbour commented, "Everything happens for a reason. I knew you shouldn't live apart when you were married." Hmm . . . well, my plan had been to spend the next year doing what I'm now doing in 2 weeks. Renovating my house for renters, packing, planning for a career transition.
Things are happening fast, but I'm worried they won't be ready. E and A and I drove in to the city to pack up A's room today. She's now installed in her step-sister's old room. L, now 12, has moved downstairs to her new room, just in time for high school. The kids come back from their grandparents' house today. E hasn't seen them in 12 days and he's anxious to see them. I don't think I could survive not seeing A for 12 days. Not when she's 5; she's still my baby.
I'm more than a little nervous about how we'll all adjust to living together. It has been tricky enough trying to work through being around E more than our usual weekends and Wednesdays. He's a bit touchy about his space, which makes me uneasy. He's used to being alone. I'm used to being alone, too, but I'm thankful not to be. That's the difference between us. E's an orphan, so I always explain his isolation that way. At least with A here with me, I'll be busy with her a lot of the time.
E also spends a lot of his time with his kids. I think what we'll have some trouble with is finding enough time alone together. At least we share kid care, which means we do have some time alone, more than most couples with kids. However, it is never enough time for me.
I wonder if I'll ever enjoy this blended family situation. Right now, I find it all too chaotic and noisy. However, when I think about the alternative, being alone with A, or being alone, maybe this is better.
Many of my good friends are alone. Single 40 somethings . . . that isn't easy. Many don't have kids either, which I would find even harder. Despite everything . . . having A has made me so happy and it does put everything else . . . houses, careers, stuff, in perspective.
Yesterday, my very superstitious neighbour commented, "Everything happens for a reason. I knew you shouldn't live apart when you were married." Hmm . . . well, my plan had been to spend the next year doing what I'm now doing in 2 weeks. Renovating my house for renters, packing, planning for a career transition.
Things are happening fast, but I'm worried they won't be ready. E and A and I drove in to the city to pack up A's room today. She's now installed in her step-sister's old room. L, now 12, has moved downstairs to her new room, just in time for high school. The kids come back from their grandparents' house today. E hasn't seen them in 12 days and he's anxious to see them. I don't think I could survive not seeing A for 12 days. Not when she's 5; she's still my baby.
I'm more than a little nervous about how we'll all adjust to living together. It has been tricky enough trying to work through being around E more than our usual weekends and Wednesdays. He's a bit touchy about his space, which makes me uneasy. He's used to being alone. I'm used to being alone, too, but I'm thankful not to be. That's the difference between us. E's an orphan, so I always explain his isolation that way. At least with A here with me, I'll be busy with her a lot of the time.
E also spends a lot of his time with his kids. I think what we'll have some trouble with is finding enough time alone together. At least we share kid care, which means we do have some time alone, more than most couples with kids. However, it is never enough time for me.
I wonder if I'll ever enjoy this blended family situation. Right now, I find it all too chaotic and noisy. However, when I think about the alternative, being alone with A, or being alone, maybe this is better.
Many of my good friends are alone. Single 40 somethings . . . that isn't easy. Many don't have kids either, which I would find even harder. Despite everything . . . having A has made me so happy and it does put everything else . . . houses, careers, stuff, in perspective.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Shift
Sometimes when you are consumed with something requiring immediate attention and only semi-consciously paying attention to something else, things shift in unexpected ways and everything alters.
That's what it has felt like for me recently. I am so consumed with immediate concerns that I'm not aware of major life shifts.
Yesterday was a day when things shifted, but I felt barely able to register the changes. I returned to E's house with a steady pain in my head that wouldn't go away. I was in bed early and out . . . and of course am up now as a result, but I don't mind my middle-of-the-night wakings because they always give me uninterrupted time to think. So.
I met with A's dad, my ex, and it was strange. He was late, as I expected he would be, and the conversation was strained. We stared across each other and talked about A. He seemed to talk about her like he was talking to a stranger, bragging about what she can do, not attributing anything to me at all. That was odd. For example, he praised her vocabulary, suggesting that it was self-generated. He couldn't seem to acknowledge that I'm her MOTHER. I know my daughter. Except that I guess he's always refused to recognize that.
We decided to keep her at her present school until we met the teacher and saw how things were going. That's fine - that's probably best. There are so many changes going on that I certainly don't want her under more stress. We also decided on a few activities for her and on a Christmas vacation schedule. It was a start. It was also a major step forward. I tried to speak clearly, keeping myself calm, and droning on in a monotone. There is so much tension in that relationship that all I could do was try to bear up.
Followoing that meeting, I rushed to my place to sign a lease with my new tenants. The reno, I guess of course, is delayed. This means I'll be spending next week trying to make up for lost time and it will be almost impossible to finishe everything I need to do before my tenants move in. I had to add a whole series of additional repairs to the reno project, just to make the house tenant ready. That's going to cost me . . . but I'm afraid to ask how much. I'have to work on building my backbone. My fear is that if I say what I really want to say I will put peole on the defensive. This has happened a lot with contractors. I think because they tend to be traditional men who resent women for speaking their mind, or even having a mind. Whenever E is with me, they talk to him, even though it is my house and my money. I can't tell you how much that bugs me, and I don't mention it, but maybe I should.
I taught all afternoon and it was fun, but exhausting. My personal challenge now is to determine just who and what and where I want to teach. If I want to teach, which I think I do. But everything, everything in my life is under review. Will be. Is. Except I'm not always conscious of it, which is what I tried to describe when this started.
It feels like the middle of the night.
That's what it has felt like for me recently. I am so consumed with immediate concerns that I'm not aware of major life shifts.
Yesterday was a day when things shifted, but I felt barely able to register the changes. I returned to E's house with a steady pain in my head that wouldn't go away. I was in bed early and out . . . and of course am up now as a result, but I don't mind my middle-of-the-night wakings because they always give me uninterrupted time to think. So.
I met with A's dad, my ex, and it was strange. He was late, as I expected he would be, and the conversation was strained. We stared across each other and talked about A. He seemed to talk about her like he was talking to a stranger, bragging about what she can do, not attributing anything to me at all. That was odd. For example, he praised her vocabulary, suggesting that it was self-generated. He couldn't seem to acknowledge that I'm her MOTHER. I know my daughter. Except that I guess he's always refused to recognize that.
We decided to keep her at her present school until we met the teacher and saw how things were going. That's fine - that's probably best. There are so many changes going on that I certainly don't want her under more stress. We also decided on a few activities for her and on a Christmas vacation schedule. It was a start. It was also a major step forward. I tried to speak clearly, keeping myself calm, and droning on in a monotone. There is so much tension in that relationship that all I could do was try to bear up.
Followoing that meeting, I rushed to my place to sign a lease with my new tenants. The reno, I guess of course, is delayed. This means I'll be spending next week trying to make up for lost time and it will be almost impossible to finishe everything I need to do before my tenants move in. I had to add a whole series of additional repairs to the reno project, just to make the house tenant ready. That's going to cost me . . . but I'm afraid to ask how much. I'have to work on building my backbone. My fear is that if I say what I really want to say I will put peole on the defensive. This has happened a lot with contractors. I think because they tend to be traditional men who resent women for speaking their mind, or even having a mind. Whenever E is with me, they talk to him, even though it is my house and my money. I can't tell you how much that bugs me, and I don't mention it, but maybe I should.
I taught all afternoon and it was fun, but exhausting. My personal challenge now is to determine just who and what and where I want to teach. If I want to teach, which I think I do. But everything, everything in my life is under review. Will be. Is. Except I'm not always conscious of it, which is what I tried to describe when this started.
It feels like the middle of the night.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Face to Face
It is almost 6 am. E is sleeping, and the empty house is almost as quiet as it can be. I did wake to a few squacks from the wall, though. So mice are stirring.
Today will be challenging. I'm having my first face to face meeting (unsupervised) with my ex-husband in order to talk about A's schooling. Earlier this summer, I was convinced that I should switch her out of her present school because I was worried she was struggling to express herself in French. I was also worried about the school's administration - the principal is unresponsive and bullying with parents and 8 teachers quit the school in June, including A's teacher. Remember, this is a Waldorf school, which is supposed to be focused on the development of social, physical, and artistic expression and community. The tone of the school seemed to fly in the face of that. Now, after talking to A and thinking it through, i'm willing to giveit another try.
Why? Well, the school is a special program, so no matter where A lives in the city, she can still attend. That means that if it works out here in E's town and I want to sell my house, that so long as A's dad is in the city, she can go to that school. Otherwise, if I'm here, she'll have to go to a school in his district or here, which would not likely work. I wouldn't want to travel an hour back and forth to his suburb and he'd likely block any attempt I'd make to move her to a school here. So, pratically speaking, it makes the most sense. However, more important is how she's feeling.
A is a compliant child, which is why I worry about her. She is so easy going that she lets her five-year-old friends push her around all the time, especially Hannah. Hannah has pinched, pushed, poked, and teased A mercilessly. Surprisingly, Hannah's parents are great. I think they've just spoiled her and can't recognize her bad behaviour. A's report card mentioned that A is reluctant to talk about what is bothering her, so I suspect she lets herself get bullied and stays mum. Certainly, having the parents she does, A is used to managing conflict and probably accepts it as a normal part of life, which makes me sad. Considering this, I think A may be struggling to assert herself generally and particularly in a French school, because whenver I've been in her class volunteering (and I was there a lot last year) she's been subdued and solitary, a dreamy little waif skirting the other playing children, off in her own world, or clinging to me. She is not her usual ebullient self. So, what do I do?
Unlike E, I've been unable to talk to A's other parent about her. However, since our appearance before a judge earlier this summer, A;s dad seems more open to communicating now. Thus, we are meeting this morning. This will be weird. We haven't spoken alone together since before he stormed out of my life 5 years ago. His rage has been extraordinary. I've not known what to do and still don't, but I will try everything I can to help A.
Last night E and I saw the movie Hope Springs. Rick Groen's review in the Globe & Mail was midling, but he did acknowledge the power of the leads and the poignancy of the movie's depiction of the couple's difficulty negotiating sex. I also thought Groen identified the major problem I had with the film - that Arnold's aversion to sex and inablity to look Kay in the eye during the act is never fully explained. I guess Groen hints that it is, but I never saw that issue resolved. There was no big reveal in the film, and the ending was tacked on . . . one of those cutesy, home movie accounts of . . . oh, I won't spoil it, but we've seen that ending countless times in recent years. Anyway, the movie did examine how difficult maintaing sexual momentum can be in a long marriage. While I've never experienced anything like that (remember, my last marriage lasted 10 months), I know E has. I think he worries about it. After all, when I first met him, he told me he didn't think sex mattered very much! He's come round, thank God, but it is still difficult for him to talk about . .. and to talk . . . and, well, as much as the movie was about an older generation, its lessons still apply. Sex is always complicated, or, rather, its is complicated when things aren't working. You forget about it when everything's okay . . . which someone I know said, but I forget who.
At least E and I, in sex and otherwise, see face to face - most of the time.
Today will be challenging. I'm having my first face to face meeting (unsupervised) with my ex-husband in order to talk about A's schooling. Earlier this summer, I was convinced that I should switch her out of her present school because I was worried she was struggling to express herself in French. I was also worried about the school's administration - the principal is unresponsive and bullying with parents and 8 teachers quit the school in June, including A's teacher. Remember, this is a Waldorf school, which is supposed to be focused on the development of social, physical, and artistic expression and community. The tone of the school seemed to fly in the face of that. Now, after talking to A and thinking it through, i'm willing to giveit another try.
Why? Well, the school is a special program, so no matter where A lives in the city, she can still attend. That means that if it works out here in E's town and I want to sell my house, that so long as A's dad is in the city, she can go to that school. Otherwise, if I'm here, she'll have to go to a school in his district or here, which would not likely work. I wouldn't want to travel an hour back and forth to his suburb and he'd likely block any attempt I'd make to move her to a school here. So, pratically speaking, it makes the most sense. However, more important is how she's feeling.
A is a compliant child, which is why I worry about her. She is so easy going that she lets her five-year-old friends push her around all the time, especially Hannah. Hannah has pinched, pushed, poked, and teased A mercilessly. Surprisingly, Hannah's parents are great. I think they've just spoiled her and can't recognize her bad behaviour. A's report card mentioned that A is reluctant to talk about what is bothering her, so I suspect she lets herself get bullied and stays mum. Certainly, having the parents she does, A is used to managing conflict and probably accepts it as a normal part of life, which makes me sad. Considering this, I think A may be struggling to assert herself generally and particularly in a French school, because whenver I've been in her class volunteering (and I was there a lot last year) she's been subdued and solitary, a dreamy little waif skirting the other playing children, off in her own world, or clinging to me. She is not her usual ebullient self. So, what do I do?
Unlike E, I've been unable to talk to A's other parent about her. However, since our appearance before a judge earlier this summer, A;s dad seems more open to communicating now. Thus, we are meeting this morning. This will be weird. We haven't spoken alone together since before he stormed out of my life 5 years ago. His rage has been extraordinary. I've not known what to do and still don't, but I will try everything I can to help A.
Last night E and I saw the movie Hope Springs. Rick Groen's review in the Globe & Mail was midling, but he did acknowledge the power of the leads and the poignancy of the movie's depiction of the couple's difficulty negotiating sex. I also thought Groen identified the major problem I had with the film - that Arnold's aversion to sex and inablity to look Kay in the eye during the act is never fully explained. I guess Groen hints that it is, but I never saw that issue resolved. There was no big reveal in the film, and the ending was tacked on . . . one of those cutesy, home movie accounts of . . . oh, I won't spoil it, but we've seen that ending countless times in recent years. Anyway, the movie did examine how difficult maintaing sexual momentum can be in a long marriage. While I've never experienced anything like that (remember, my last marriage lasted 10 months), I know E has. I think he worries about it. After all, when I first met him, he told me he didn't think sex mattered very much! He's come round, thank God, but it is still difficult for him to talk about . .. and to talk . . . and, well, as much as the movie was about an older generation, its lessons still apply. Sex is always complicated, or, rather, its is complicated when things aren't working. You forget about it when everything's okay . . . which someone I know said, but I forget who.
At least E and I, in sex and otherwise, see face to face - most of the time.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Renting
It is so strange to be on the other side of renting. I am going to be a Landlord. Yikes. I just hope the people I'm renting to are reasonable. I've been drafting a lease all day. I'm not sure how any of this is done.
Meanwhile, the squacks and rustlings that E and I have been hearing behind his bedroom wall are not wasps but mice!! They are a more expensive problem, so E's not happy. I, on the other hand, have probably been living with mice for the past 2 years. The shredded plastic bags I keep finding in my garage and environs suggest that. I've certainly been living happily with my pet squirrels for a while, feeding them all my leftover fruit. I also have a gopher living in my backyard. The renters noticed the hole and I breezily said, "Oh, that's our gopher hole, they're all over this neighbourhood."
I'm hoping I find wilderness friends here. The odds are good. I've been harvesting wild produce anytway. Last week, L and I made Sumac lberry emonade. It was surprisingly tasty and is good for you.
I'm sure there are many suburb adventures ahead.
Meanwhile, the squacks and rustlings that E and I have been hearing behind his bedroom wall are not wasps but mice!! They are a more expensive problem, so E's not happy. I, on the other hand, have probably been living with mice for the past 2 years. The shredded plastic bags I keep finding in my garage and environs suggest that. I've certainly been living happily with my pet squirrels for a while, feeding them all my leftover fruit. I also have a gopher living in my backyard. The renters noticed the hole and I breezily said, "Oh, that's our gopher hole, they're all over this neighbourhood."
I'm hoping I find wilderness friends here. The odds are good. I've been harvesting wild produce anytway. Last week, L and I made Sumac lberry emonade. It was surprisingly tasty and is good for you.
I'm sure there are many suburb adventures ahead.
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Drawing
A is an artist. She is singing, "Valentine, Valentine, wont ya be my Valentine?" and drawing pictures of fairies, bedrooms, and weddings. I am sipping lukewarm coffee and checking email. E is upstairs recovering from his afternoon with A. His kids are away with their mother.
It is grey, surprisingly, after our summer of relentless sun. This will be a good excuse to stay in and do nothing. Yesterday at the park, A started screaming as she followed another little girl through the woods. I didn't know what was going on. She was crying and hiccuping and holding her legs. She'd been stung three times by wasps. It took about an hour to calm her down. There were three swollen red blotches on her legs that have all but disappeared now, thank goodness. I had no idea how to treat wasp stings until I googled it. What did we do before google?
It is now pouring rain. Now she is singing, "For me you'll always be 44," and hugging me. She's been listening to too much Lady Antebellum. She likes the idea of nostalgia. I'm just happy that she's happy. We've been forcibly separated for too long. Now that she gets to talk to me whenver she wants, she seems a much happier child.
The drawings, her way of narrating her world, attest to that.
It is grey, surprisingly, after our summer of relentless sun. This will be a good excuse to stay in and do nothing. Yesterday at the park, A started screaming as she followed another little girl through the woods. I didn't know what was going on. She was crying and hiccuping and holding her legs. She'd been stung three times by wasps. It took about an hour to calm her down. There were three swollen red blotches on her legs that have all but disappeared now, thank goodness. I had no idea how to treat wasp stings until I googled it. What did we do before google?
It is now pouring rain. Now she is singing, "For me you'll always be 44," and hugging me. She's been listening to too much Lady Antebellum. She likes the idea of nostalgia. I'm just happy that she's happy. We've been forcibly separated for too long. Now that she gets to talk to me whenver she wants, she seems a much happier child.
The drawings, her way of narrating her world, attest to that.
Early Riser
I just lost my post. I hit the wrong key and it disappears. How frustrating!
I got up early today and heading in to town to check on the progress of my reno. I slipped in to find the bathroom gutted to the struts, a strange empty box of a space. All the pink plastic is now a distant memory. However, I'm reminded that eventually, I should have a DVD that will preserve it for posterity. After all, we did participate in the strange "All For Nothing" show last January. We were supposed to have been given a copy of the final show after it aired, but it hasn't aired yet. W network dropped it and it was picked up by OWN and is supposed to air sometime after January 2013. It will be strange to revisit that time a year later. It wasn't fun. It was far too stressful and chaotic to enjoy. I promised E that even if Oprah Winfrey herself begged us to do a reality show about a blended, bilingual family, I'd refuse. Reality TV is just too fake to tolerate.
Anyway, we won't worry about that now. Reality itself is hard to take right about now. There are too many changes to process and too little time. E is sleeping it off, I'm wired awake. I hope it all calms down eventually so that I can see through the dust.
I got up early today and heading in to town to check on the progress of my reno. I slipped in to find the bathroom gutted to the struts, a strange empty box of a space. All the pink plastic is now a distant memory. However, I'm reminded that eventually, I should have a DVD that will preserve it for posterity. After all, we did participate in the strange "All For Nothing" show last January. We were supposed to have been given a copy of the final show after it aired, but it hasn't aired yet. W network dropped it and it was picked up by OWN and is supposed to air sometime after January 2013. It will be strange to revisit that time a year later. It wasn't fun. It was far too stressful and chaotic to enjoy. I promised E that even if Oprah Winfrey herself begged us to do a reality show about a blended, bilingual family, I'd refuse. Reality TV is just too fake to tolerate.
Anyway, we won't worry about that now. Reality itself is hard to take right about now. There are too many changes to process and too little time. E is sleeping it off, I'm wired awake. I hope it all calms down eventually so that I can see through the dust.
Monday, August 6, 2012
Height of Summer
We just came in from the pool. It was cooler than it has been, just the hint of summer turning in the evening air I loaded up my car with A's clothes and hauled them here after vacating my house this morning.
The contractor was working his way down through layer upon layer of bathroom flooring, first the vinyl faux wood that was there when I bought the house, then some beigy linoleum, then a pink layer, then warped wood. He also found balled up newspapers from the 1950s in the wall. It was deconstruction day. I didn't want to be there, but I was worried about leaving my home in someone else's hands. E reminded me that I'd have to get used to it.
There's a family that wants to rent my place, which surprised me. I thought it was only big enough for 2, but they've been living abroad and thought it would work for them . . . so, I'll hand it off and hope for the best. At least I'll keep the house. Without renting it, I probably couldn't keep it, not with the work prospects as they are.
I was talking to my friend S today and we have a similar outlook. The Universe directs us, we both feel, through these surprising twists and turns. If I'm not teaching all the time, juggling marking and multiple demands, then maybe I'll have more time to focus on what I really love, or at least focus on finding out what it is that I really love to do. Certainly, I know who I love. I do have a lot of love in my life and I'm grateful for that.
The contractor was working his way down through layer upon layer of bathroom flooring, first the vinyl faux wood that was there when I bought the house, then some beigy linoleum, then a pink layer, then warped wood. He also found balled up newspapers from the 1950s in the wall. It was deconstruction day. I didn't want to be there, but I was worried about leaving my home in someone else's hands. E reminded me that I'd have to get used to it.
There's a family that wants to rent my place, which surprised me. I thought it was only big enough for 2, but they've been living abroad and thought it would work for them . . . so, I'll hand it off and hope for the best. At least I'll keep the house. Without renting it, I probably couldn't keep it, not with the work prospects as they are.
I was talking to my friend S today and we have a similar outlook. The Universe directs us, we both feel, through these surprising twists and turns. If I'm not teaching all the time, juggling marking and multiple demands, then maybe I'll have more time to focus on what I really love, or at least focus on finding out what it is that I really love to do. Certainly, I know who I love. I do have a lot of love in my life and I'm grateful for that.
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Home
I'm back home, at my house. E's at his. We talk by phone. This is the way it has been for the past 3 years. This is going to change - tomorrow.
At 7:30 am my bathroom contractor arrives to begin demolishing my circa 1940s, pink, platic-tiled bathroom interior. (While I agree there is charm to the pink bathroom - see http://savethepinkbathrooms.com/ - I can't posibly rent my house with the bathroom as is.) Today, E and I picked out more contemporary off-white porcelain tile with a complimentary mosaic pattern. All this week, the contractor will work and A and I will begin our life in E's little town across the river.
His little town is reminiscent of the little town I grew up in, way up in northern Quebec, so it is almost like I'm returning to some part of myself, but will it feel like home? What does home feel like? Like I can relax and be . . . without worrying too much about anything. Writing this, I'm reminded of how much I've had to worry about here . . . as a first time homeowner, I've encountered one problem after another, but I've also learned to manage it all. Haven't I? Well, truth be told, I've not enjoyed having to manage it all alone. I want to share a home with E. I want to live with him. I want to feel more settled than I've felt in the past 2 years.
Settled. Is that a bad thing? Some may think so. While many people want excitement and to drama, I want the opposite. Both E and I want harmony and calm. Unfortunately, we each envision harmony and calm quite differently.
I guess the strength of our relationship is that we respect each others' differences. His harmony and calm, for instance, involves constant television or radio background noise, kids shouting back and forth, and the thunder of footsteps on the stairs. Mine is nearly silent. I loved travelling up in the alpine gondola, for instance, listening to birdsong and nothing else. I think E found it stressful. Can we co-habitate? I'll need a silent retreat somewhere. He'll need to blare the tv and thump about.
Home is based in a physical place of comfort, but it is also where we feel emotionally content and safe. If we are so different, can we both feel at home in a place that must accomodate us both? This remains to be seen.
There are so many unknowns. The next year, I know, will be the hardest. That's why it is hard to begin. But begin we must, tomorrow.
Today, I'll just take stock and try to prepare for the change.
At 7:30 am my bathroom contractor arrives to begin demolishing my circa 1940s, pink, platic-tiled bathroom interior. (While I agree there is charm to the pink bathroom - see http://savethepinkbathrooms.com/ - I can't posibly rent my house with the bathroom as is.) Today, E and I picked out more contemporary off-white porcelain tile with a complimentary mosaic pattern. All this week, the contractor will work and A and I will begin our life in E's little town across the river.
His little town is reminiscent of the little town I grew up in, way up in northern Quebec, so it is almost like I'm returning to some part of myself, but will it feel like home? What does home feel like? Like I can relax and be . . . without worrying too much about anything. Writing this, I'm reminded of how much I've had to worry about here . . . as a first time homeowner, I've encountered one problem after another, but I've also learned to manage it all. Haven't I? Well, truth be told, I've not enjoyed having to manage it all alone. I want to share a home with E. I want to live with him. I want to feel more settled than I've felt in the past 2 years.
Settled. Is that a bad thing? Some may think so. While many people want excitement and to drama, I want the opposite. Both E and I want harmony and calm. Unfortunately, we each envision harmony and calm quite differently.
I guess the strength of our relationship is that we respect each others' differences. His harmony and calm, for instance, involves constant television or radio background noise, kids shouting back and forth, and the thunder of footsteps on the stairs. Mine is nearly silent. I loved travelling up in the alpine gondola, for instance, listening to birdsong and nothing else. I think E found it stressful. Can we co-habitate? I'll need a silent retreat somewhere. He'll need to blare the tv and thump about.
Home is based in a physical place of comfort, but it is also where we feel emotionally content and safe. If we are so different, can we both feel at home in a place that must accomodate us both? This remains to be seen.
There are so many unknowns. The next year, I know, will be the hardest. That's why it is hard to begin. But begin we must, tomorrow.
Today, I'll just take stock and try to prepare for the change.
Last day
I've been up for about an hour. We moved to a new hotel last night in order to stay on, but this one is located just beneath a skybucket thingamagig. It makes a lot of noise. I completely empathize with people living with the sound of wind turbines. This kind of aural pollution must be shockingly bad for your health. E, of course, is sleeping soundly. He raised his head at about the time I woke up and said, "If you don't mind, I'm going to sleep a little longer." Really? Who is he trying to kid, I thought.
We should be sleeping off a super late night , but we're not. It was a fabulous night, but we were in bed early and asleep as soon as we were in bed.
David Usher was a sexy showman, crooning in the multicoloured dry ice clouds on the stage, he kept up bilingual banter and leaned into his mike to sing songs that were lyric and beautiful. It was a balmy, breath-warm night. We waited for a while to get our table, but it had a great view of the stage and we were able to relax and enjoy the view of the square and the show while drinking and eating, which was far more comfortable than trying to squeeze onto a patch of lawn along with various dogs and small, shrill children.
There are many of both here. I've been watching the couples, though. I keep wondering what draws people together and what keeps them that way. After thinking about the film some more, I think Polley was also examining women's desire for pure sex rather than comfortable affection. Cute as Seth Rogen is, Luke Kirby, the actor playing the love interest is far more angular and intense, soulful and seductive. Perhaps that kind of raw physical attraction matters more than women acknowledge. Or maybe people just seek out someone who reflects back aspects of themselves that they have or want to have. Looking at couples over the past few days, I think that many look well-matched in terms of stature, colouring, and features. Do we unconsciously look for someone who mirrors our own physical traits? Or do people who live together slowly adapt to reflect each other somehow?
Another, more pressing question for me is does this similitude eventually lead to boredom? Is that what's behind our cultural preoccupation with infidelity? What drives this desire to deviate from what is safe and familiar?
We should be sleeping off a super late night , but we're not. It was a fabulous night, but we were in bed early and asleep as soon as we were in bed.
David Usher was a sexy showman, crooning in the multicoloured dry ice clouds on the stage, he kept up bilingual banter and leaned into his mike to sing songs that were lyric and beautiful. It was a balmy, breath-warm night. We waited for a while to get our table, but it had a great view of the stage and we were able to relax and enjoy the view of the square and the show while drinking and eating, which was far more comfortable than trying to squeeze onto a patch of lawn along with various dogs and small, shrill children.
There are many of both here. I've been watching the couples, though. I keep wondering what draws people together and what keeps them that way. After thinking about the film some more, I think Polley was also examining women's desire for pure sex rather than comfortable affection. Cute as Seth Rogen is, Luke Kirby, the actor playing the love interest is far more angular and intense, soulful and seductive. Perhaps that kind of raw physical attraction matters more than women acknowledge. Or maybe people just seek out someone who reflects back aspects of themselves that they have or want to have. Looking at couples over the past few days, I think that many look well-matched in terms of stature, colouring, and features. Do we unconsciously look for someone who mirrors our own physical traits? Or do people who live together slowly adapt to reflect each other somehow?
Another, more pressing question for me is does this similitude eventually lead to boredom? Is that what's behind our cultural preoccupation with infidelity? What drives this desire to deviate from what is safe and familiar?
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Fun, pure and simple
That's how this has been. We've been sliding in and out of pools, rocketing up mountains, listening to music, eating and drinking. Last night we watched Take this Waltz, not to be confused with the book I just read The Forgotten Waltz. The film is Sarah Polley's second and it was good. It took me off guard, which is always good. I was far too ready to dismiss the cutesy, hipster posturing of the opening sequences . . . before I realized that the couple's sickening affectations were the point. They were trying too hard and nothing was really holding them together beyond their playing at house. The love interest was far more intense and interesting to the heroine because he offered her something more profound. We all want someone to move us rather than just tolerate us, right? But of course, infatuation doesn't last either and people are all too easy to deceive. The film is full of longing and sadness and regret. Anyone who has had love fail understands these things. Certainly, I imagined the conversations that E's been having with his ex this summer . . . her telling him that all that was keeping her in her present marriage was fatigue and a lack of funds. This is the man she left him for. This is the man she had a baby with soon after leaving him. She realizes now it was a big mistake, but guess what? There isn't any going back. Thankfully, for me, there's just going forward. E's stepping out of the shower . . . more later We're seeing David Usher tonight . . . and dancing . . .
Friday, August 3, 2012
On and on . . .
So, one of the beauties of my husband is that he enjoys himself and truly is able to have fun. So we've extended our honeymoon another day because it was ending too, too soon.
He just said, "Are you happy we're staying one more day?" and I replied, "I'm happy we're spending one more day."
We are off to a neighbouring village we found earlier today when we went looking for a drugstore. Disney for adults here doesn't have a drugstore. Real life Quebecois village does, although with snarky salesclerks. Anyway, doesn't matter, we wandered about and we had fun. We're returning for dinner and that should be more fun.
He just said, "Are you happy we're staying one more day?" and I replied, "I'm happy we're spending one more day."
We are off to a neighbouring village we found earlier today when we went looking for a drugstore. Disney for adults here doesn't have a drugstore. Real life Quebecois village does, although with snarky salesclerks. Anyway, doesn't matter, we wandered about and we had fun. We're returning for dinner and that should be more fun.
On the Mountain
Here I am, in the early morning, my sleeping husband resting atop a giant pillow bed. He's like the Princess and the Pea atop a hundred matresses, still rankling about her terrible sleep, but he is sleeping. I, as anyone who knows me knows, sleep rarely.
Last night we took a shuttle to a casino in the woods. It was something I never thought I'd do on my honeymoon, but we had coupons and time to kill, so off we went to play the slots. I made $5 on the 1 cent machines. E pulled in $30 from the bigger ones. We returned to the hotel to celebrate with virgin dacquiries.
This will be our third day in adult Disneyland. I don't mind. Sunning by a pool, drinking fruity drinks, reading, all this pleases me. I do not need to do anything cultural, or physically challenging to feel rested and rejuvenated, although we did hike the mountain yesterday morning. Really, really, I just need to relax and process what feels like my life's continental drift.
I brought Menage by Alix Kates Shulman, The Forgotten Waltz by Anne Enright, and The Virgin in the Garden by A.S. Byatt. I finished the first, am almost through the second, and will struggle to get back into the third. Menage was satiric and entertaining, about an almost affair and writing, but not moving in any way. I have to admit, I like to be moved by novels. The Forgotten Waltz, about an actual affair, really isn't honeymoon reading. It is lyrical in that Irish way, but I find it difficult to enjoy prose about lust. I suppose I am not really lusty. I don't understand risking everyone's hearts for something as fleeting as desire.
I think E agrees with me on this. That's what started this all. We were the ones left behind.
Anyway, starting off at marriage at "middle age" - Oh God, am I really (??!) - will be a challenge on many levels, but maybe we know ourselves well enough not to risk love for sex? Or possibly, we just aren't the types to do that. Well, I know I'm not.
We have a room with a view. It was an upgrade. We watched the moon skirt the mountain our first night here, which was quite romantic.
E keeps saying, "I'm having so much fun, babe." I keep thinking the theme of this marriage and new family will be fun. It will be a welcome respite from the drudge of my own life . . . which I'll soon have to manage better . .. and find a way to enliven , if not infuse with fun.
Meanwhile, I'll enjoy this. I'll read about affairs and believe in fun, fidelity, and love.
Last night we took a shuttle to a casino in the woods. It was something I never thought I'd do on my honeymoon, but we had coupons and time to kill, so off we went to play the slots. I made $5 on the 1 cent machines. E pulled in $30 from the bigger ones. We returned to the hotel to celebrate with virgin dacquiries.
This will be our third day in adult Disneyland. I don't mind. Sunning by a pool, drinking fruity drinks, reading, all this pleases me. I do not need to do anything cultural, or physically challenging to feel rested and rejuvenated, although we did hike the mountain yesterday morning. Really, really, I just need to relax and process what feels like my life's continental drift.
I brought Menage by Alix Kates Shulman, The Forgotten Waltz by Anne Enright, and The Virgin in the Garden by A.S. Byatt. I finished the first, am almost through the second, and will struggle to get back into the third. Menage was satiric and entertaining, about an almost affair and writing, but not moving in any way. I have to admit, I like to be moved by novels. The Forgotten Waltz, about an actual affair, really isn't honeymoon reading. It is lyrical in that Irish way, but I find it difficult to enjoy prose about lust. I suppose I am not really lusty. I don't understand risking everyone's hearts for something as fleeting as desire.
I think E agrees with me on this. That's what started this all. We were the ones left behind.
Anyway, starting off at marriage at "middle age" - Oh God, am I really (??!) - will be a challenge on many levels, but maybe we know ourselves well enough not to risk love for sex? Or possibly, we just aren't the types to do that. Well, I know I'm not.
We have a room with a view. It was an upgrade. We watched the moon skirt the mountain our first night here, which was quite romantic.
E keeps saying, "I'm having so much fun, babe." I keep thinking the theme of this marriage and new family will be fun. It will be a welcome respite from the drudge of my own life . . . which I'll soon have to manage better . .. and find a way to enliven , if not infuse with fun.
Meanwhile, I'll enjoy this. I'll read about affairs and believe in fun, fidelity, and love.
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Get me out of here!
Okay, well, finally, we are minutes away from our honeymoon. I am waiting for E to pick me up in his shiny, red car. I just want to do nothing. I know we'll have fun. Anytime we go anywhere together (sans children) we have a great time.
Last night we had a "family" meeting. It was about Responsibility, Respect, Roles, and Rules. C, E's son, was not happy. He pouted and sniffed and wiped back tears. This is a continuation of the behaviours he displayed for the past 2 years. Whenever C doesn't get what he wants, he adopts this stance. It is so frustrating for me, because all I can do is follow E's lead, and E tends to either ignore or indulge his son. When he asked him what was wrong and C said he was angry with his sister, I knew that wasn't true, but E just shrugged and let it go. Even E's daughter, L, recognizes E's resistance to emotional communication. She's 12 going on 30, and last night remarked, "Yeah, whenever papa asks us what's wrong and we say 'nothing' he just walks away, no 'are you sure?', no 'what's really going on?' - he just walks away."
"We may have to change that," I said.
That may take some time.
Until that happy future date, I'll just try to let the "family" meeting go . . . and enjoy a couples weekend!
Here's to champagne and pools and eating out!
Last night we had a "family" meeting. It was about Responsibility, Respect, Roles, and Rules. C, E's son, was not happy. He pouted and sniffed and wiped back tears. This is a continuation of the behaviours he displayed for the past 2 years. Whenever C doesn't get what he wants, he adopts this stance. It is so frustrating for me, because all I can do is follow E's lead, and E tends to either ignore or indulge his son. When he asked him what was wrong and C said he was angry with his sister, I knew that wasn't true, but E just shrugged and let it go. Even E's daughter, L, recognizes E's resistance to emotional communication. She's 12 going on 30, and last night remarked, "Yeah, whenever papa asks us what's wrong and we say 'nothing' he just walks away, no 'are you sure?', no 'what's really going on?' - he just walks away."
"We may have to change that," I said.
That may take some time.
Until that happy future date, I'll just try to let the "family" meeting go . . . and enjoy a couples weekend!
Here's to champagne and pools and eating out!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)